Osmosis – a STXI fanfic

Chapter 10: Even for Love

...

The days are too short even for love; how can there be time for quarreling?

Margaret Gatty, as quoted in The Sun, April 2011

…...

Vulcan vocabulary in this chapter:

Adun = husband

Adun'a = wife

Ashayam=beloved.

ka'thyra / kaathyra = Vulcan lyre

Moi loma = Good evening

Okosu=honorific – form of address for women

Opidsu = Lord. Formal address for a man.

tal-kam = dear one

Early evening, eighteen hours before space dock

Nyota and Spock's adjoined quarters, the Enterprise

Spock mentally reviewed the bridge crew's schedule. Six hours off, then four hours on duty, four hours for rest, then four hours until space dock. Thirty minutes of that time he'd already given to the coffee break organized by Mr. Scott. Nyota had also attended, but she appeared distracted and had consumed far too much replicated coffee before he gave her a concerned look, causing her to switch to water before she left the gathering early.

Unsettled, Spock stood in the central room of the quarters he shared with Nyota and rolled the tension out of his shoulders. He remembered the rise and fall of her voice, responding to him during their most recent coupling, voicing her pleasure and telling him how precious he was to her. Simple calculations reminded him that less than two weeks had passed, but in an abstract sense it felt too long.

He heard sounds from behind the connecting door between their quarters. No greeting? His father Sarek had advised him that allowing one's mate physical and mental privacy strengthened a marriage. Spock respected Nyota's need for private time and agreed to have the connecting door installed at Nyota's request. Now Spock felt his ambivalence about the door changing into disagreement.

Spock undressed and pulled on a loose robe. He pulled a packet of particularly aromatic tea from his storage trunk, set a small container of massage cream on the bedside shelf, selected and programmed music files of calming, sensual ka'thyra and kora duets. The bedsheets were standard Starfleet issue, but they were clean and would feel fresh and smooth against her skin. He opened his side of their mental bond, making himself approachable.

Spock waited, busying himself with administrative work. Nearly half an hour passed. Surely she had changed clothes, washed, checked messages by now. Unwilling to wait longer, he strode across the room to the connecting door.

Nyota's quiet response to his knock, inviting him in, sounded soft even to his keen Vulcan hearing.

"Adun'a, moi loma. Are you well?" Spock tried not to frown as he looked at her.

Clad in an old Starfleet t-shirt, she sat on the smaller bed in her room, two padds beside her. "Moi loma, sweetheart. I was just about to come in and see you, to ask how your day went."

"Is there any logical reason that this work cannot wait until you return to the Bridge before space dock?"

"I just need to be sure I've reviewed everything."

"Nyota, you are not the only crew member engaged in such procedures. Others maintain the required communications status even now. You cannot do all of the work by yourself."

"I know. I just can't leave it alone."

"There is no reason to leave us alone. I do not wish to seem a complaining husband, but your company would be agreeable." He stopped, wondering if he sounded petulant, and changed his tone, allowing his voice become soft and deep. "Adun'a, you have not properly greeted me this evening, despite the fact that I have been in the same room with you for two minutes and nine seconds."

"What...oh. Honey, I'm sorry, I'm not myself." Though welcome, her kiss was too soft, too light, and her fingers felt cold against his. Spock pulled her closer to him, moving his hands down her shoulders and back.

"Your muscles are tight. Will you accept a massage?"

"Mmm, how sweet of you. I would love that. I'm so tired."

He rubbed his cheek against hers and kissed her neck. "Perhaps my efforts will revive you. If not, I will appreciate your presence in our bed, if only for a few hours." He looked at her. "Did you truly intend to sleep alone in here?"

"Maybe. I need a nap, but I wanted to work, and be ready for the space dock...I don't know. I'm too worried and tired to be normal this week, whatever normal means on a starship."

"Allow me to help, tal-kam." Spock easily lifted her into his arms to carry her into their shared bedroom, making a small show of his strength.

He listened to her discuss the impending space dock and visit to the surface of Alpha Cachette while he brewed the tea, responding with reassuring comments about the professionalism of the crew. He distracted her by brushing her wrist with his fingers as he placed her cup on the table before her. The soothing music turned her conversation to light topics. He teased her, quoting a line of poetry; she smiled and quoted a line back. Still, she did not touch him.

"May I rub your back now?" he finally asked, trying to keep the frustration from his voice.

She smiled, her fatigue vanishing for a moment. "Yes, please do. But I can't promise you anything."

"I want to please both of us; it is not a transaction," he sighed as she pulled off her shirt and stretched out nude on the bed. He held a small pool of massage lotion in his palm, warming it with his body heat, and then rubbed it into her arms, legs, and back.

"That feels so good..." She moaned, pressing her hips against the bed. Spock closed his eyes for a moment, counted to five, and kept himself under control. "I owe you one, sweetheart," she murmured happily.

"Whatever you determine that 'one' to be, I believe that I will like it. I crave touch," he admitted. "I am able to manage separation from you during work hours. It is difficult to accept the idea of you sleeping on the other side of that wall when we could have skin contact and soothe one another instead. Read your padd in bed, work instead of sleeping, do what you like. I only request that you do so in my company at least occasionally."

"I wasn't thinking. I've missed you these past few days. I should take better care of my bondmate."

"Nyota, please do not interpret my actions as reasons to be anxious or to feel guilty. Simply accept what I give you."

Warm, content, her muscles loose from the massage, Nyota summoned her remaining strength and embraced Spock as they lay facing one another.

"Thank you," she whispered. She rested one leg over his hip; his penis, half-hard, moved against the smooth skin of her inner thigh. "Ooh, nice. You're ready."

"I know that you are not, so we will wait. Having my bondmate fall asleep while I attempt lovemaking reflects badly upon my erotic abilities," he said dryly. "Even the least egotistical Vulcan would be driven to self-examination and reflection."

She smiled and stroked the patterns of hair on his chest. "Sweetheart, you know that I always want you. We could try..."

"Ashayam, your eyes are closing."

"But..."

Little puffs of air blew across his chest as she exhaled. Spock sighed. Patience.

"Computer, lights and music off. Adjust room temperature to sleep setting."

…

Twelve years earlier

Summer, New Nairobi, the United States of Africa

No matter how much a well-behaved girl child of the Uhura family adored her parents, certain subjects were more easily discussed with a beloved, impartial Aunt. Nyota slipped away from the conference hotel and made her way by electric jitney van to the eclectic, vaguely respectable Garden District where her Auntie 'Chelle kept a flat – one of a few that the elegant, highly educated woman kept in a few different locations on Earth. The Uhuras were attending and presenting at a conference scheduled during a period when Auntie 'Chelle was in town, and brought their daughters along to make it a family visit.

Several young men from well-connected families were also present at the conference, and a few made inquires about her plans for the future. Nyota responded that she intended to finish school, then attend university...the rest, she kept to herself. Not even her parents knew yet.

Thankfully, they trusted Nyota enough to let her maintain a private computing tablet. They saw her use it for schoolwork. Sometimes she felt guilt for betraying their trust when she used the tablet alone in her bedroom. She changed the file names of romance novels hidden inside blandly named folders on the device. Alone, she read about women who enjoyed sex, women who theorized about sex, women who created their own erotic literature, art, and films. Quickly, she learned what made her uncomfortable or frightened and what appealed to her enough to wish she could do it with someone else. Nyota also used her tablet to research a future, one that did not – as far as she could tell – involve sex or love for anything else but a career.

The Garden District was safe enough for a teenage girl to travel through alone in the daytime; sociable residents stared through their windows at Nyota as she passed by, some nodding greetings which she returned. Auntie 'Chelle traveled abroad frequently – Nyota often thought that she didn't really live in any one place at all - but the sophisticated woman enjoyed this eclectic part of the city so much that she'd purchased a flat there before prices and buildings crept skyward.

Perhaps it would have been wise to call ahead, but Nyota guessed that Auntie 'Chelle might be home during the hottest part of the day. She imagined the older woman wearing a long, loose dress, drinking cold red hibiscus tea, working on her memoirs and a consulting project.

Mrs. Uhura had clear plans for her daughter – all for Nyota's own good, even though she didn't know it yet. University – yes! Career – yes! A husband, stable home and grandchildren for the Uhuras – absolutely!

"Things haven't changed enough for women in some ways," Mama Uhura sighed during conversations with friends, unaware of Nyota's eavesdropping. "Girls are so much easier to match up when they aren't distracted by things like downloading space travel videos. I should know – if I hadn't been lucky to meet her father at university myself...oh! The girl pestered her father and uncles to teach her basic electronics when she was no more than eight, for goodness sakes! I want her to learn as much as she can, but also how to deal properly with men. You must make a man feel useful, and in charge of something."

Nyota wondered why she and a nice man could not work on electronics and think about things together. They might repair or make something at their home. It could be fun! But Nyota accepted that this was one more thing to understand "when you're older".

Reaching her Auntie 'Chelle's building, Nyota slipped through the front door behind an entering resident, bypassing the palm scan at the front entrance. She groaned as she saw the OUT OF ORDER sign attached to the lift. Her cotton-and-plant-fiber dress stuck to her back and humid air flowed through breeze blocks high in the walls. A four-flight walk upstairs awaited her.

No problem, she'd manage. She hoped that Auntie 'Chelle was not out of red hibiscus tea. Visualizing a tall, cold glass of luscious red tea with drops of condensation rolling down its sides, Nyota made her way up the stairs, hearing the footsteps of some other unlucky visitor or resident preceding her.

One flight below her aunt's floor, Nyota heard a door open and then a familiar, melodic voice.

"Karibu mpenzi (Welcome, my darling)." Nyota froze in mid-step. The sultry pitch of her Aunt's voice made it clear that the greeting was not for her.

The low, resonant voice she heard next further clarified the situation.

"At last I am with you again, my beautiful one," came the response in Standard language.

"It has been too long."

"Twenty-four hours! You flatter me."

"A few hours each afternoon are not enough. I dreamed of you. I would rather have been next to you while I dreamt."

"Darling, you know that I've got family visiting this week, and they come here in the evenings. Until you're ready to meet them...we'll pursue our afternoon delights."

"I take our relationship seriously," the other voice said gently, "but I was uncertain whether you -" "Shh, let's talk inside. Even the hallways in this building are full of ears."

The door shut, and Nyota sat down on a step. She didn't relish walking back to the conference hotel in the heat, but she was also burning with curiosity. And to think that Mama worries that Auntie 'Chelle will tell me more about information science than how to deal with men! Her Aunt's hair was an elegant silver now, her skin still soft, her personality warm and engaging. Obviously age has only made her better at dealing with them, if she still has men claiming to dream of her, and coming over here every afternoon to...

Abruptly, Nyota stood up and hurried downstairs. Nobody wanted to hear their parents or relatives during their intimate moments, and she had no idea how well the soundproofing worked in this old building.

Later that day, Nyota's tablet and phone chimed simultaneously. Her Aunt wanted to speak with her at her earliest convenience – alone.

Sheepishly, Nyota made an excuse to her parents, claiming that Auntie 'Chelle wanted to show her some dress patterns. Delighted that her athletic, studious daughter had suddenly developed an interest in fashion beyond earrings, Mrs. Uhura smilingly put Nyota into a cab headed to the Garden District.

"Nyota, the security cameras on my home system showed me that you came upstairs this afternoon." "Uh, yes, Auntie." Nyota cast a sideways glance at her aunt's silver-polished fingernails, unable to make eye contact, then blurted out, "I'm sorry I didn't call you first! I wanted to talk with you about something private. The lift was broken so I walked upstairs, and as I came near your floor I heard you...talking with someone. I was embarrassed because it sounded, uh, private so I just turned around and left. I didn't really see," she added hastily. "I don't think your...visitor saw me either. I'm sorry, Auntie. I didn't mean any harm and I didn't tell anyone."

Her Aunt looked both amused and tired. "There's nothing to hide, really, but it's probably better that you didn't say anything...as much as I love my family, I know that not everyone understands certain things."

She patted Nyota's shoulder. "Don't feel ashamed. Someone I've known for a long time visits me when...when we enter the same orbit, one might say. Not everyone understands how to love when they're young. Remember that, my girl. Don't get impatient if you haven't snared the perfect husband by your twentieth birthday. If he's also twenty, he may not know enough about life or himself to make a durable husband anyway. Marriage or companionship are good things, but you must work hard to listen to the other person, let them know they are truly cared for. Make time to show them you want to be with them."

She sighed, looking out the window at the flow of people and vehicles. "Never let anyone tell you that older women don't need love, or attention."

"Uh...when do older women stop...you know...having intimate relations?" Nyota asked.

Auntie 'Chelle's gracefully arched eyebrows raised.

"I don't know," she replied, with a sly half-smile. "I'll let you know when I stop doing it."

Feeling her face grow hot as she stifled a laugh, Nyota turned her gaze to the skyline.

"What was the private conversation you wanted to have with me?" Auntie 'Chelle asked, mercifully changing the subject. Relieved, Nyota looked into her aunt's eyes and smiled. "For a long time now, I've been thinking about what I want to do after completing school here. I know that Mama wants me to marry after university and working for a while, but...I'm not sure I know how to be married to anyone yet. I want to apply to Starfleet."

...

Late afternoon

Aboard the Enterprise

Earlier that day, Serranstivlen stripped down to a pair of shorts and a thin T-shirt and exercised in the gym for some time, working off his excess energy. A few humans stealthily watched him. He began conversations with them, most of which were agreeable.

A few of them made personal advances. Serranstivlen had understood Spock's veiled warning clearly. He sought no permanent bond with anyone aboard, but he did not want to be treated as an entertaining curiosity. Although he was sexually attracted to a variety of beings, hearing humans speak the phrase I've never had one of you before had the emotional impact of a bucket of cold, dirty water thrown onto his sexual desire. Without displaying anger, Serranstivlen rejected the offers as politely as possible, drawing upon his knowledge of human holo or book narratives.

It is not you, it is me.

I just need time off right now and can not do flings; it is nothing personal.

The phrases didn't make complete sense to him, but they effectively cooled off the humans.

Later, he joined Donstelralth and Stelendos in exploring the ship's observation deck and library system. Lieutenant Sulu was very busy preparing for the space dock but kindly took ten minutes to show them the shipboard garden he had created.

There was a midday meal, shared with talkative humans. Some complained about a lack of chocolate in the replicators. Stelendos responded that he did not understand why such a powerful drug would be available for meals on a ship, which caused the human crew to laugh as though he had intentionally made a joke. The Vulcan apprentices exchanged a look with Donstelralth and dropped the subject.

Later, Donstelralth excused himself to meditate, leaving the apprentices under their own supervision. It would have been agreeable to volunteer their services somewhere, but the crew members seemed busy with their own assigned tasks and there was no work for the Vulcans to do, though they offered to help.

Fortunately, Stelendos said that Charlene – Serranstivlen wondered why his shy friend had stopped using the honorific Okosu when discussing a woman of the ship, but perhaps he was making progress – of Engineering had shown him where the 'game rooms' were. A crewman explained the games to them and then excused himself, explaining that he must go 'on shift'. Left to themselves, the young Vulcans rotated through dozens of varieties and versions of games, playing at high speeds.

Now, as the apprentices took a break, Stelendos oddly insisted upon being addressed as 'Stelen'. A nickname, he explained. Not that there was anything wrong with a perfectly good Vulcan name, but Charlene of Engineering and other friendly humans had begun to address him thus. Nicknames were not commonly used among diasporic Vulcans on his home planet, but culture was changing on New Vulcan. It was possible to interact with outsiders and remain Vulcan. Opidsu Spock was commissioned to Starfleet and he was more Vulcan than either one of them in behavior and learning – despite his half-human bloodline.

"Serran, many on New Vulcan are already suspicious of us for enjoying human music and dancing. My use of a nickname will make little difference," Stelen said as he piloted a shuttle through a flight simulation.

"Why do you – I have not given you permission to address me thus. However I do not find it disagreeable. 'Serran'." He tried saying his shortened name a few times, then imagined the attractive Yeoman, who was now off-limits to him, murmuring it. "Agreed. Call me Serran. Nicknames can be agreeable, though they do not compare to Vulcan endearments."

"I wonder if Okosu Uhura finds Vulcan endearments pleasing to the human ear," Stelen said thoughtfully.

"She is unlikely to wish to hear such endearments from you, so that is an illogical question. You know that Okosu Uhura speaks Vulcan fluently, and Donstelralth said she also read the Vulcan script in carvings inside our shop. Has Charlene of Engineering placed you in a trance, Stelen?"

"No more than the Yeoman bewitched you. Do not deny it; I say little but I see much." He slowed the shuttle down, preparing for a landing.

"I was informed by the Yeoman of a previous relationship," Serran muttered.

"Before or after?"

"After, and that is why I am here with you instead of renewing my acquaintance with the Yeoman. I made a mistake. Humans do not consistently make their intentions clear."

"It is best to spend time in conversation with a human first." Stelen guided the shuttle above the images of treetops. "They will sometimes answer questions before the questions are asked."

"You are an expert now? What have you asked Charlene of Engineering?"

"Not enough. I must prepare the appropriate questions." Stelen landed the shuttle in a clearing and ended the simulation program. "The evening meal is a few hours away. Perhaps I shall find an answer in meditation."

Serran shrugged and switched out of the program. "I will sharpen my tools and watch a holo until that time."

As the Vulcans left the game room, they noticed that the illuminated entry panel beside the door flickered. Curious, Serran tapped the touch interface. The door to the game room slid open, then closed, then open again.

"I could probably repair that, but not without permission. Instead we will inform the Enterprise crew," Serran said. As both Vulcans turned the corner, they saw a crewman hastily close a panel door set into the wall.

Charles Steap turned around and saw the two Vulcans staring at him, speaking in Vulcan. He rolled down his sleeves quickly, but the metal disk in his arm glinted under the corridor lights. Neither Vulcan blinked. Maybe their eyes don't pick up such things.

"I remember this man from the gym; he addressed Okosu Uhura improperly," Serran muttered.

"Yes, but he is part of the crew. We should inform him of the broken entry panel."

"What do you want?" Charles Steap said as the Vulcans approached him.

Stelen blinked. "Pardon us. We saw the door panel, there, not operating properly." He did not approve of this man, but it was necessary to remember that he was with Starfleet, while Stelen himself was only a guest. "Please tell us, how do we report this problem?"

Steap visibly relaxed. "Oh, I'm the right person. I'll take care of it. You don't need to tell anyone else." He looked up at Serran, who stood silently, arms crossed.

"I do not talk much of your language. All is well," Serran said in laboriously accented Standard.

"Yeah, all right. I was just fixing that problem. Thanks guys. Goodbye." Steap stared at them until the Vulcans nodded and walked away.

Stelen lowered his voice and spoke in a colloquial variant of Vulcan. "You spoke an untruth. Your spoken and written Standard are much better than mine. What game do you play?"

"I do not trust that man. He may have spoken an untruth to you, although I cannot prove it. I am willing to let him believe that I understand little of what he says. We will tell someone else what we saw. I regret not asking his name." Serran looked back, but Ensign Steap was gone. "I will remind you, Stelen: my Standard speech fluency score was tabulated at nine hundred and ninety-eight. That is not perfection. I did not lie."

"Serran, you believe yourself clever. We will find Spock, or the Captain if necessary."

…

Aboard the Enterprise – personal quarters of Leonard McCoy

Late afternoon – break period

"How did I end up with a Vulcan for a rival?" Scotty wondered aloud. "What's he got that I haven't got?"

"Pointy ears and excessive strength?" Leonard McCoy drawled, withdrawing the replicator's version of "near beer" and pushing it across the table towards Scotty.

"Right, there is that," Scotty muttered. "And being young and halfway good-lookin' helps, I suppose. But I do not appreciate his poachin' on me turf, and I've a mind to let him know it."

"Slow down there, Scotty. Maybe Miss Masters doesn't consider herself your 'turf'. Have you actually told her you're interested?"

"Not in words, no, but I thought we had an understanding."

McCoy sighed heavily. "If there's one thing life as a doctor – a divorced doctor – has taught me, it's that two people seldom understand one thing the same way."

Frowning, Scotty crossed his arms. "Engineers solve problems. Charlene wants clarity? She'll get it."

"Y'all keep things peaceful, hear? Don't bring any bloody noses or duelling wounds into my Sickbay."

"Eh?" Scotty blinked at him. "I've no need for violence. Doctor, you Southerners dinna have a monopoly on charm. Scots can match ye word for word in sweet talk."

Laughing, McCoy poured a glass of near beer for himself. "Yeah? And whatcha gonna do if Miss Masters is more interested in actions, not words?"

"Private walks on the observation deck. My connections will supply me with chocolates, flowers, silk scarves, lady's things...or stylish hi-tech gadgets, more Charlene's taste. If I have to bring out the big guns, I'll find an excuse to wear me kilt at a formal occasion. Never failed me yet. I show my legs and the ladies tremble. Not from horror, usually."

McCoy raised his glass. "A toast to your pursuit. Good luck, Mr. Scott."

"Thanks, Doctor. Should I wish you luck as well?"

"Naw. 'S been a long period of involuntary celibacy for me. My 'Southern Charm' is broke and I cain't fix it. I probably couldn't sell ice water in hell, let alone myself."

"Dinna be such a pessimist. Try, fail, try again, fail again, fail better. If your failin' you're tryin'. Here's to unctuous charm and good intentions with lovely prospects."

The men clinked their glasses, and sipped the gleaming amber liquid.

Next chapter: Nyota asks herself what it means to be brave; space dock; and sabotage ain't all it's cracked up to be.

Thanks very much for reading!